Snow Hunt
by Nathaniel Cardeu
Summary: Seamus is hunting for his prey, high in the snowy plains above Reykjavik, Iceland. It's a matter of honour now, to see who is the cat, and who is the mouse. In this war there can be no prisoners!


Seamus crouched, wiping the sweat out of his eyes with a warm hand. He stuffed it back in its glove quickly, before the chill wind got to it. He inspected the snow at his feet, checking for the telltale signs that someone had passed by. The lass was in the wind, a ghost, but he was certain she had come this way. She had tried to lose him earlier, trying to get him to follow a set of fake tracks back down the cliff path, towards Reykjavik, but he hadn't fallen for it. She was good, and knew how to create a false trail, but she wasn't so hot on covering her real one. Only a few inconsistencies had been found, but Seamus knew his prey well, knew what to look out for; the size of the shoe, the tread mark, that telltale nick on the back left half of her right boot… that had been missing from the false trail. It hadn't taken him long to find the real one.

He glanced over his shoulder, back at the hill he had climbed; it provided him a beautiful panoramic view of the coast, the picturesque city of Reykjavik basking in the morning sunshine. The snow had been heavy overnight, making travel up to the mountain plateau tough, but this game of cat and mouse that they had been playing for a week had to end, and he was going to be the cat! Part of him was sad that it was ending today. It would be a shame to destroy the lass, but such was the nature of their war. There could be no mercy.

He moved forward, keeping low, ears straining for sounds over and above the wind or the shrill call of the arctic terns that wheeled overhead. The young man glanced at them, hoping he wasn't near a nesting site. Last thing he needed was to be dive bombed by a bunch of eejit gulls trying to drive him away from their nest. It was the wrong season for young, but you could never tell with wildlife. He had learnt not to take them for granted!

With swift movements, Seamus allowed his magic to form a trench in the deep snow, packing it hard so it didn't crunch underfoot. The trench ran in front of him, parallel to the trail she had left behind, and he followed it, alert and poised. He didn't want to lower his guard as she had managed to turn the tables on him more than once. The last time had been in the streets of Reykjavik when he had caught sight of her, mere moments before her attack. His reactions had saved him, dropping to the floor, her assault passing overhead, and then he had followed her as she attempted to escape.

He was determined to see her first this time, to get the drop on her and try to bring this fight to a sensible conclusion. He didn't want to hurt her, obviously, but he was prepared to fight dirty if he had to. Winning was all that mattered right now.

There was a sound and he froze, listening; it was the crunch of snow, the shifting of a boot, a sniff.

 _There yer are, lass_ , he thought to himself, catching a brief glimpse of movement in a low ditch. It was little more than a flash of colour, maybe the top of her winter hat, but he knew it was her. He let his magic create a hard packed slope, bringing him level with her trail again. He kept low and gathered his weapon, ready to strike when he had a good line of fire.

With agonising slowness he moved forward, seeing her hunched over, her back to him. She muttered something under her breath, waving her wand over the ground before her. Seamus came closer, ready to strike…

 _"Wingardium Leviosa Maxima!_ " she cried, flicking her wand and causing over a hundred snowballs to lift into the air. As Seamus lifted his one paltry missile, she spun to face him and yelled, " _Oppugno!_ "

"Seamus grimaced. "Ahh… feckin' arse!"

The barrage caught him in the face, the chest, his arms… he stumbled backwards, peppered with snow, and his heel caught on a small rock, tumbling him back into the ditch.

Spitting and spluttering the sandy haired man brushed snow off of his face, hearing her cackling laughter. He looked up with a half smile on his lips as her pretty face appeared over the edge of the trench. Her beautiful brown eyes danced with amusement. "You give up yet? Or are you thirsty for more!?" she asked with a laugh.

"Cheater!" he declared, pointing an accusatory finger.

"You never said I couldn't use magic to create an artillery barrage!" Hermione said with a grin, her tongue between her teeth.

"Yer called _me_ out when I used magic ter throw them though! Now yer doin' the same! Foul, red card!"

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll forfeit the point." She stood and brushed snow off of her knees as Seamus staggered to his feet again. "Two all, sweetness. Next one's the winner…"

Seamus glanced towards the city and then up in the sky. "We gotta get back to town in a bit, love. Portkey's leavin' in an hour and we can't miss it."

Hermione put her hands on her hips and pouted, not wanting their holiday to be at an end already. She gave him a half smile, helping him out of the ditch. Her arms snaked around his waist and she rubbed her cold reddened nose on his, kissing him softly on the lips. "So, are you saying that I win then? That you surrender and forfeit the match?

"No, lass. I'm sayin' yer got a ten second head start back to town," Seamus said, giving her a wicked grin. He kissed her on the nose and murmured, "An then I'm comin' after yer an stuffin' a handful o' snow down yer knickers!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

He raised an eyebrow at her and whispered, "One..."

Hermione gave a scream of laughter as Seamus stooped to grab a double handful of snow. She shoved him back into the ditch and took off running across the snowy field before he could react.

A short while later the Portkey would bring them back to Seamus' home in Ireland, and because Hermione was shivering and frozen with cold, the young man would peel her wet jeans off, divest her of the slush filled underwear, and bundle the pair of them into the shower, ensuring that he warmed every part of her body. Tomorrow it would be Christmas and they would have responsibilities and family to deal with, but for now, they could just be two lovers, enjoying each others' bodies and washing away the melted, Icelandic snow.

* * *

Thank you to Krystle for the beta read and the awesome aesthetic, and to Kat for finding the story funny. 


End file.
